


Or Something

by positivelystisaac



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, Anti-Sterek, Barista Isaac, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot, Protective Isaac, Sad Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 07:59:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1183834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/positivelystisaac/pseuds/positivelystisaac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek is possessive, angry and sometimes abusive. Stiles is unhappy, but too afraid to leave the relationship. That’s where Isaac comes in. </p><p>Filled prompt/one shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Or Something

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning: this story has mentions and brief description of mild domestic abuse. Abusive Derek Hale, so please do not read if this will upset you.

Before Derek even opens his eyes, he knpws something isn’t right. The bed doesn’t feel like it should for some reason, and at first he racks his brain to remember if he had slept somewhere else the night before. He doesn’t bother to open his eyes, but rather shrugs it off, rolling over to drape an arm over Stiles. 

 

His arm drops straight down to smack against cold bed sheets. Confused, Derek opens his eyes, only to see Stiles isn’t in bed. “Stiles,” he calls in the direction of the connecting bathroom. “What are you doing?”

 

When he’s met with silence, Derek sighs loudly and throws back the covers. Planting his feet firmly on the floor, he walks over to the bathroom door and throws it open. Much to his surprise, Stiles isn’t inside. 

 

After doing a quick sweep of the apartment, Derek realizes Stiles is gone. His phone is gone from the charging dock on the bedside table and his keys missing from the rack next to the door. Derek quickly finds his phone and dials Stiles’ number. It rings a few times before going to voicemail. 

 

"Hey, this is Stiles. You missed me, try again later or leave a message!" 

 

"Stiles," Derek huffs. "Where are you? Call me now." 

 

He tosses his phone down on the bed and heads into the bathroom. After a quick shower, Derek checks his phone. No new calls or messages. Sighing, he redials Stiles and leaves another message. “The point of having a phone is to answer it, Stiles. Call me back.”

 

A few minutes passed, and when there’s still nothing from Stiles, Derek calls again. “I’m getting sick of this, Stiles. What makes it okay for me to wake up to an empty bed? Call me or get home now.”

 

And again. “Stiles, I swear to god. Fucking answer me.”

 

And again. “Seriously, Stiles. Cut the shit and call me. I’m getting really sick of this.”

 

Meanwhile, Stiles is across town at a small coffee shop, trying to catch up on work. Despite the noise canceling headphones, he can’t get the peace and quiet he really needs.

 

Not too long after making his drink, the barista comes around the counter, takes off his apron and runs a hand through his blonde curls. Stiles looks up and pauses his iPod, but leaves the earbuds in his ears, hoping the guy will get a clue. 

 

"I’m Isaac," he says, taking a sip from the iced coffee in his hand. 

 

"I’m busy," is Stiles’ response. 

 

"Ooh, charming." Stiles sighs, taking the earbuds out of his ears. "Come on, tell me your name. You’re in here almost every day, it wouldn’t be too hard to figure out," Isaac says. 

 

"Stiles."

 

"Hi, Stiles. I would ask what you’re drinking, but I assume it’s your regular medium dark roast black coffee with two shots of espresso. So, instead, I’ll ask you what you’re listening to?" Isaac smiles, sitting down across from Stiles. 

 

"A little bit of everything," Stiles responds, picking up his coffee cup. "The 1975, The Smiths, Kooks, Black Keys, you know?"

 

"Dude, I love The 1975!" Isaac says excitedly. "And The Smiths, too," he adds after further thought. 

 

Stiles isn’t sure what to say, so he just nods, taking a long sip of his coffee.

 

"She Way Out is such a jam," Isaac notes. 

 

"No way, that’s what I was just listening to!" Stiles laughs, letting his guard down. Isaac smiles, the corners of his lips peeking up, revealing a flash of straight, white teeth. Stiles’ can’t help but watch as Isaac’s tongue darts out to lick his lips before he speaks again. 

 

"What about Chocolate?" Isaac asks. 

 

"Classic. Has to be one of their best. Second only to Undo," Stiles says, without hesitation. Isaac flashes him a million dollar smile. Stiles can’t help but smile back. 

 

"You’re good," Isaac says, eyes bright. 

 

"So, Isaac. Why do you know my coffee order?" Stiles asks.

 

"I know all of my cute customers’ orders," Isaac says, as if it’s nothing.

 

"Huh. And what brings you over here?" Stiles finally asks, trying not to focus on Isaac calling him cute. 

 

"It’s weird, almost like I’m magnetized or something. I see a hot guy and all of a sudden here I am," Isaac deadpans.

 

Stiles tries not to, but he can feel the blush creeping onto his face. Isaac thinks he’s hot? And cute?

 

"No, I’m kidding. About the magnet, I mean. Not the hot part," Isaac clarifies. "You left your phone on the counter when you ordered," Isaac says, digging into his pocket for the phone. He goes to hand it over, but it lights up. "Ooh, you’re getting a call. Who’s Derek?" Isaac asks, looking at the screen, finger hovering above the glass. 

 

"Fuck," Stiles mutters. "Don’t answer it." 

 

Isaac hits the decline button, but holds onto the phone, despite Stiles’ outstretched hand. “Why don’t you want to talk to Derek?” Isaac asks. “Whoever he is.”

 

"He’s my boyfriend," Stiles says, reaching for the phone. Isaac pulls it away, though. 

 

"Ahhh. Trouble in paradise?" he asks. 

 

"No," Stiles lies. 

 

"Ooh, convincing," Isaac grins. "Come on, Stiles. You don’t have to lie to my face. That’s just ruuuuude," Isaac says sing-songingly. "What’s going on?" he asks, this time more seriously. 

 

Stiles isn’t sure why he does it. Maybe it’s the way that somehow, Isaac’s blue eyes and blond curls feel like home. Maybe it’s the still-tender skin on Stiles’ ribcage, blue and purple from the last time Derek got mad. Maybe it’s the thought of someone actually wanting to hear him speak for once. Maybe it’s a combination of the three. 

 

Whatever it is, it makes Stiles talk. “We’re not on the best terms right now,” he offers, thinking about the fight last night that Stiles luckily escaped without visible injury.

 

"Who fucked up?" Isaac asks, taking a sip of his drink. 

 

Stiles is a little taken aback. “What makes you think someone fucked up?”

 

"Doesn’t someone always?" Isaac asks. Stiles considers this for a minute, then nods. 

 

"I guess you’re right."

 

"So… your fault or his?" Isaac presses. 

 

"Uh…. I don’t really know, actually." It’s true, Stiles doesn’t know. Is it Derek’s fault for lashing out or Stiles fault for upsetting Derek? It always feels like it’s his fault, but he’s never cared to dwell on it. Now that Isaac asks, though, Stiles gives it a second thought… is the array of bruises and scrapes hidden beneath Stiles’ layers his own fault?

 

He isn’t sure. 

 

Isaac nods thoughtfully. “Does he know where you are?” he asks. 

 

"No."

 

"Hmm," Isaac nods again. "Well, Stiles. Here is your phone. You may want to call him back. Maybe answer his… eight voicemails," Isaac says, scrolling through the recent call log screen. 

 

Stiles instinctively reaches for his phone, scared that Isaac might somehow see an incriminating text or two. “Can I have it?” Stiles asks, a little impatiently. 

 

"Sure," Isaac says, not looking up as he types something. When he finishes, he looks up at Stiles and hands him the phone. "Now, you have my number," he tells Stiles, more than just a hint of satisfaction in his voice.

 

"Uh, okay?" Stiles is confused.

 

"When things stop working with you and Mr. Voicemails, you should give me a call. I’d say we could get coffee, but I once learned that the second date should always be different than the first,” Isaac grins. 

 

"This… this isn’t a date," Stiles says. 

 

"Down the road, when people ask what our first date was, I’m sure you’ll jump to tell them the story of the time the adorable, curly haired barista won over your heart with his amazing coffee making skills and even better music taste," Isaac says simply. 

 

"You’re too much," Stiles says. "But thank you. For my phone, I mean."

 

"Anytime," Isaac says, standing up. "See you later, Stiles," he says with a wink. 

 

Stiles is too flustered to process what’s happening, let alone respond. Isaac returns to his station behind the counter, stealing not-so-secret glances at Stiles ever so often. After a few minutes, the blush hasn’t left Stiles’ face. He decides he had better just go home, because there’s no way he can actually get any work done now.

 

—

 

By the time he walks in the door, Derek is fuming. “Where the hell have you been?” he demands. 

 

"The coffee shop," Stiles says, trying to stay calm. 

 

"With?" 

 

"Myself," Stiles says. "I had a lot of work to do," he adds. Derek says something ultra possessive and dismissive, as usual, and stalks off into the bedroom. Stiles groans, watching Derek storm off.

 

He isn’t sure why he does it, but he digs his phone out of his pocket and pulls up Isaac’s contact. He blushes a little when he sees the heart emojis next to Isaac’s name. Before he can even think twice about it, he fires off a message: Hey.

 

Then another: This is Stiles, by the way.

 

And another. From the coffee shop. Stiles sighs, locking his phone and putting it down on the table before following Derek.

 

"What’s wrong?" Stiles asks, standing in the doorway to their bedroom. He doesn’t usually push it with Derek when he gets like this, but he honestly can’t figure out what he did that was so wrong this time.

 

"You leave and don’t tell me! I wake up alone and then you don’t answer my calls? How am I supposed to believe you’re really where you say you are?" Derek shouts. 

 

"You’re supposed to trust me, that’s part of being in a relationship," Stiles says tentatively. 

 

"What the fuck do you know about being in a relationship?" Derek snaps. "You do whatever you want without asking me."

 

"I do whatever I want because I’m an independent person!" Stiles yells back. He flinches as Derek moves, fully expecting Derek to make contact with him somehow, especially since he yelled back. Instead, Derek stomps past him and out the door. 

 

As soon as he’s out of sight, Stiles sighs and takes a minute to let his heartbeat slow. “What the hell is this?” Derek’s booming voice cuts through the silence. 

 

"What?" Stiles asks, walking out into the living area. His heart drops when he sees Derek holding up his phone. Stiles reaches for it, but Derek steps back, turning away as he scrolls through the new messages.

 

"Hey Stiles. Smiley face. Can’t stop thinking about you. " Derek reads off. Stiles’ stomach knots up, beads of hot, nervous sweat popping up on his neck and palms. 

 

"Uh," Stiles begins. He isn’t sure what to say. 

 

"Who the fuck is Isaac? With a heart next to his name?" Derek demands. 

 

"The barista at the coffee place," Stiles says. "I left my phone there, when I got it back he had put his number in. That’s it," Stiles says. 

 

"I’m not good enough for you? You need to chat up baristas now?" Derek asks angrily. 

 

"No! It was nothing, he just wasn’t leaving me alone. I’m not into him or anything. I left as soon as I got my phone back," Stiles says. The last bit is true, at least. 

 

"Well, he can’t stop thinking about you," Derek snaps. 

 

"It’s nothing!" Stiles lies. He can feel angry tears welling up, but he breathes steadily, trying to get them to stop. 

 

"End it," Derek instructs, smacking his hand down onto the table, startling Stiles. 

 

"There’s nothing to end!" Stiles argues, hot tears threatening to spill from his eyes. 

 

"Then it shouldn’t be difficult," Derek says, storming back into the bedroom, all but slamming the door behind him. 

 

—

 

A week goes by, then two. Stiles makes a habit of stopping in the coffee shop every day, feeling his stomach knot up in excitement when he sees Isaac behind the counter. He never stopped talking to Isaac, but Derek doesn’t have to know that. It’s been three months since he met Isaac, and they’d talked every day since. 

 

Stiles did wind up putting a password on his phone and changing Isaac’s name in his phone to Aunt Rose, just in case. He doesn’t have an Aunt Rose, but again, Derek doesn’t have to know that. He just figured he’d cover his bases. 

 

The conversations had been growing in intensity, both Stiles and Isaac’s flirting games had been strong. Everyday, when Stiles would come into the shop, Isaac would make his coffee, then take his break and come sit with Stiles. They’d talk music, TV, books, anything really. 

 

Isaac burned Stiles a CD, which he quickly transferred onto his iPod, throwing out the actual CD so he could hide the evidence before he burned Isaac one in return. 

 

Come the third week of this, they are both really into each other. Stiles still gets nervous about Derek finding out, and that scares him a little. What surprises him, though, is the realization that he’s willing to take the risk if it means getting to hang out with Isaac.

 

Isaac, on the other hand, never asks about Stiles’ boyfriend. He doesn’t want to be reminded that what they’re doing could technically be considered cheating, even though they never do more than flirt and talk. So, he decides not to ask. If Stiles is okay with it, Isaac would be, too. 

 

Almost a month after their “first date,” as Isaac once referred to it, Stiles comes into the coffee shop. Isaac smiles when he saw Stiles come through the door, but his smile quickly drops when he sees the guy behind Stiles, holding his hand. The two of them get in line to order, Stiles shooting Isaac apologetic looks the entire time. 

 

"Next, please," Isaac calls, looking down at the register. Even though there are two other baristas taking orders, his luck works out just perfectly, and Stiles and his boyfriend come up to Isaac’s counter. "What can I get for you?" Isaac asks, pretending not to know Stiles. 

 

Derek orders, and Isaac pulls two cups from the stack on the counter. He scribbles the two orders on them, passing them off to the other baristas making the drinks. “Five thirty-two, please,” Isaac says, looking up. 

 

"Wait, Stiles, you never ordered," Derek points out. Stiles looks at Isaac, eyes wide. Isaac, of course, knew Stiles’ order, and didn’t even bother asking what he wanted. 

 

"I sometimes stop in on my way to work, I guess they know what I get by now," Stiles stammers nervously.

 

"Sorry, what was your name?" Derek asks Isaac. 

 

Isaac knows there’s no point in lying, since he’s wearing a huge goddamn name tag. “Isaac.”

 

Derek grows silent, walking away angrily to the end of the counter to wait for the drinks. “Fuck, Isaac. I’m so sorry,” Stiles says quickly and quietly. 

 

"It’s fine," Isaac says, giving Stiles his change. "Have a good one. Next, please?"

 

Derek and Stiles get into another fight about Isaac that afternoon, this one even uglier than the first one. It ends with Derek throwing a television remote at Stiles, who doesn’t manage to catch it in time before it hits him in the cheek. Derek storms off into the bedroom, leaving Stiles alone in the living area to ice his cheek and try to stop crying. 

 

Whether it was the fear still bubbling inside of him, the blood rushing to the bruising skin on his cheek or the realization that someone other than Derek had shown interest in him, Stiles wasn’t sure. Whatever it was, it caused him to unlock his phone and fire off a text to Isaac. I’m really sorry about earlier. Let me make it up to you. When do you get off your shift? 

 

Isaac responds almost immediately. Five minutes ago. 

 

Stiles wasn’t expecting such a quick response. He wracks his brain for what to say as he gets an ice pack from the freezer. Up to anything? he sends. He doesn’t want to sound too forward, but the fact is, after his fight with Derek, he really wants to see Isaac. 

 

Not if you don’t want me to be. 

 

Let’s do something. Stiles finishes typing and presses the ice against his cheek, wincing at the cold. 

 

A real second date already?! :) comes Isaac’s response. Stiles grins at the screen, wiping at his eyes as he tries to compose himself. 

 

No… my boyfriend would kill me! Stiles types back. Little does Isaac know it’s not really a joke. 

 

Then a strictly not-a-date casual encounter? Isaac writes. 

 

Sure, that sounds right :) Stiles replies. 

 

When and where? 

 

Now. Or as close to now as possible. The park on walnut street?? Stiles offers. 

 

Perfect. I can be there in ten :)

 

Stiles puts on his jacket and grabs his keys, putting the ice back into the freezer. He needs an excuse for where to tell Derek he’s going. He knows Derek has to work at 3, and it’s already almost 2, so at least he’ll have a few hours in the clear. “Derek?” he calls, walking towards the bedroom.

 

He opens the door and peeks his head in. Derek is sitting on the bed, arms crossed. The TV is on, but Stiles can tell he isn’t really watching it. How could he? The remote is still laying on the kitchen floor. “Hmm?” Derek grunts. 

 

"I’m going to pick up some stuff at the store for dinner tonight. I’ll see you when you get home from work?" Stiles says. 

 

"Yeah. I get off at nine," Derek replies. 

 

"Okay, see you then," Stiles says, walking out before he’s forced to say ‘I love you.’

 

I’m on my way :) Stiles sends Isaac before jumping in his car and getting the hell out of dodge. 

 

—

 

"So, second date already?" Isaac asks, sitting down next to Stiles on the park bench. 

 

"This isn’t a second date. Don’t flatter yourself," Stiles replies. 

 

"So…trouble in paradise or something?" Isaac asks. 

 

"Or something," Stiles says, looking down at his hands. 

 

"Is it my fault?" Isaac asks. Stiles looks up, turning his head to face Isaac. "Because I-" Isaac begins, before stopping mid sentence, eyes widening. "What happened to you?" he asks, running a finger along the pale skin of Stiles’ cheek. 

 

"What?" Stiles asks, trying to keep the blush from rushing to his face as a result of Isaac’s touch. 

 

"You have a nasty looking bruise going on. Where was that this morning?" Isaac says, fingers lingering on Stiles’ cheek. 

 

Fuck, Stiles curses himself for forgetting to cover it up before he got out of the car. “Oh, that. Yeah, I fell,” he lies. 

 

"Or something?" Isaac asks knowingly. Stiles considers lying again, but decides against it. He nods, looking down and hoping his gut is right about trusting Isaac. 

 

"How did you know?" he asks. 

 

"My dad was my ‘or something’ for a while," Isaac says quietly. "I know all the excuses," he adds with a forced laugh. 

 

"Oh," is all Stiles says. 

 

"Listen, Stiles. You gotta get out of there," Isaac says after a minute. "It’s toxic, trust me, I know. I lived for sixteen years with my dad, five of which were spent like this," he says, running his fingers over Stiles’ bruise again. 

 

"I want to. But I can’t," Stiles says. His own honesty surprises him, especially since he’s never talked about his relationship with Derek with anyone before. 

 

"You can," Isaac says. 

 

"How did you get out?" Stiles asks. 

 

"Wound up at the same hospital too many times, I guess. They started asking questions, and I started answering. Social workers came in, and my dad went to jail. I have a restraining order and he won’t even be up for parole for another ten years," Isaac says. 

 

"I don’t know what he’ll do if I leave," Stiles says quietly. 

 

"I’ll protect you," Isaac says, somewhat lightly- although neither of them are sure how serious he is. 

 

"I don’t know," Stiles says. Isaac places his hand over Stiles’ on the bench, linking their fingers.

 

"Does he know where you are?" Isaac asks.

 

Stiles shakes his head. “He thinks I’m food shopping. He’s going to work now, though.”

 

"What better time to go back, pack your things, and get out?" Isaac asks.

 

"In what world could I possibly pull that off?" Stiles asks.

 

"This one," Isaac says seriously.

 

"No. No way," Stiles says, shaking his head. 

 

"Our second date has turned terribly serious," Isaac notes after a minute of silence. 

 

"This isn’t a second date!" Stiles laughs, albeit a little forced. 

 

"Whatever you say," Isaac grins. "But I say it is. And you know what I do on the second date?" he asks. 

 

Stiles shakes his head. 

 

Isaac leans in, placing a hand on Stiles’ good cheek, turning his head. “This,” Isaac says, closing the distance between their lips and kissing Stiles softly. 

 

Stiles hesitates for a second, eyes wide in surprise, but soon finds himself responding to Isaac’s lips on his, and deepening the kiss as his eyes flutter closed. Their lips slide together smoothly as Isaac’s hand moves from Stiles’ cheek to find a home in Stiles’ hair.

 

Their noses bump as Isaac pulls away, hot breath mixing. ”Shit,” Stiles says. Isaac’s face hints at a smile. 

 

"How about now?" he asks Stiles. 

 

"How about now what?" Stiles asks. 

 

"How about you leave him. I’ll help you. We’ll pack up your things, get you out of there," Isaac says. 

 

"Where will I go?" Stiles asks. "What if he finds me? What if he’s home? I’ll have to quit my job and get a new phone number, and-"

 

"Relax," Isaac says. "You take a picture of that face and whatever else he’s done to you. Pack everything up, get out as soon as possible and go to the police. It’ll be okay," Isaac says reassuringly. "You’ll stay with me, and he won’t find you. And if he does, I’m not going to let him anywhere near you."

 

"I don’t know…" Stiles says, although he’s seriously considering it.

 

"Trust me, Stiles. You deserve so much better than him. Get out of there and live the life you deserve. Everything will be okay," Isaac says, rubbing Stiles’ back as he talks. 

 

"You know what, fuck it. Yes. You’re right. Get me out," Stiles finally says, looking up. "He’s working until nine, we can go get my stuff now and then go from there."

 

"Let’s go," Isaac said, squeezing Stiles’ hand reassuringly.

 

—

 

Three months later, Isaac and Stiles are living together in Isaac’s apartment. Stiles had enough stories and evidence to have Derek put in jail for a couple of years, and they both had no trouble getting restraining orders. Stiles is able to keep his job, and phone number, much to his delight. 

 

Isaac is still working at the coffee shop, and Stiles still stops by often, just for old times’ sake. Even though they wake up next to each other every morning and fall asleep in each others’ arms each night, seeing each other during the work day never gets old for either of them. 

 

"Hey, Isaac?" Stiles asks one night as they’re getting ready for bed. 

 

"Hmm?" Isaac replies. 

 

"You’ll never guess what happened to me today," Stiles says, peeling off his shirt and replacing it with one of Isaac’s grey tee shirts. 

 

"You’re right, I won’t guess. I suck at guessing. What happened to you today?" Isaac asks from inside the connecting bathroom.

 

"There was a new girl at work today. She saw the picture of us on my desk and asked me about how we met and what our first date was," Stiles says, putting his clothes in the hamper by the door.

 

"And you said?!" Isaac asks excitedly, poking his head out the bathroom door, toothbrush in hand, white foam around his lips.

 

"I said that one day I went to get coffee and the cute barista won me over with his great coffee-making skills, blue eyes and charming smile. And of course, his music taste," Stiles grins. 

 

"I told you so!" Isaac says, pumping his fist in the air. He finishes brushing his teeth, then turns off the light and joins Stiles in bed. 

 

"You’re right. It’s a good story, she ate it up," Stiles says, resting his head on Isaac’s chest.

 

"I love you," Isaac says for the first time, wrapping his arms around Stiles. 

 

"Good. Because I love you, too," Stiles says with a smile, tilting his head up to meet Isaac’s lips for a kiss. "And thank you," he adds when they pull away. 

 

"For?" Isaac asks, brow furrowing. 

 

"Everything," Stiles says, kissing him again.


End file.
